Moments in time
by elag
Summary: A collection of short (very short) glimpses into the minds of our dear characters.
1. Chapter 1

It was a little thing. On another day he might have missed it altogether. It could have passed unremarked and unremembered.

But it didn't.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was visiting his friend Bingley at his newly rented estate in Hertfordshire. Darcy, a quiet, reserved fellow who hated the press and impertinence inherent in social events peopled by strangers, had been dragged all unwilling to a local assembly. Bingley had mingled, formed acquaintances, danced, and had a capital time. Darcy had brooded, glowered, rebuffed overtures, and avoided the dance floor. He had performed the requisite set with his hostess, and one with her sister to avoid any imputation of preference for the former, then retreated to the margins, where he tried his level best to be invisible for the remainder of a long, tedious evening.

It could easily have faded from his memory along with countless similar evenings before it.

But it had not.

On this particular evening, Darcy had glanced across the room to see the most remarkable thing: a young lady was laughing – an open, joyful, laugh – and her eyes were fixed on his in challenge. In a room full of people obsequiously seeking his attention and approval, this young lady chose to laugh at him. He had no idea why, but his attention was caught.

And on that tiny moment, his world turned.


	2. Chapter 2

Elizabeth Bennet had anticipated the assembly with all the pleasant expectation the prospect of a country dance among familiar neighbours could supply. The evening had more than usual interest due to the expected attendance of the new tenant of Netherfield Park, together with his entourage of friends and family.

Elizabeth wore her best gown, had her hair artfully arranged, and completed the ensemble with her garnet cross. She and her sisters arrived, greeted friends, and happily accepted invitations to dance.

There were, as usual, more ladies than gentlemen present, and so she was happy to sit out several dances to allow her sisters their share of partners. During one such interlude, she idly watched their new neighbour, Mr Bingley, accost his taciturn friend, Mr Darcy, and urge him to dance. She was entertained by the exchange – all delight and enthusiasm on the one part and all disdain and reluctance on the other – until she heard herself mentioned. At this point, Mr Darcy turned to look at her. His eye caught hers, and she quickly looked away, yet remained exceedingly interested to hear how he would respond.

He did not disappoint. He managed to insult her with such overweening arrogance, shewing just how much above his company he felt himself to be, that she could not but be delighted by the folly of it all.

She wasted no time in self-pity. If the proud Mr Darcy was not tempted onto the dance floor by the prospect of a set with her, it was small loss: she had plenty of dance partners amongst her neighbours, and good friends with whom to chat between sets. Indeed, he had given her the liveliest topic for conversation she could have wished for. She wasted no time in retailing his remarks, highlighting their absurdity and giving rise to general laughter.

At one point, while laughing at just this subject, she caught his curious gaze from the other side of the hall. She raised one eyebrow in challenge, as if to say "despise me if you dare, sir," and turned back to her friends.

Unspoken from across the room came back his answer, "Indeed, I do not dare."

 _Jane Austen's characters borrowed with respect and love._  
© 2017


	3. Chapter 3

Her mother's nagging rang in Jane Bennet's mind: so beautiful; so graceful; save us from the Hedgerows. She knew her duty was to marry well. She wished she might also marry happy.

Jane had dreaded the assembly: their new neighbour would attend, and her mother expected her to fix his interest, be he ever so vile. She _hoped_ he might be a good man, but even if he did prove tolerable, Jane would not play the role of temptress her mother urged upon her.

She mustered a serene exterior, calmed her mother's expectations so far as she could (which was not far) and turned her mind to enjoying her sisters' company.

Mr Bingley asked her to dance. Twice. ("I knew how it would be!" cried her mother.) Between dances he lingered in her company. Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst spoke to her politely. The man was delightful, his sisters pleasant. Jane nursed a very private wish for more, but guarded her feelings well: her mother would be bad enough without encouragement.

It was only afterward, under the covers in the bed she shared with dear Lizzy, that she could whisper her hopes.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a country assembly like many others: crowded, boisterous, noisy and hot. But still, a jolly dance, where one could meet the neighbourhood, enjoy the company of some pleasant girls, several of them uncommonly pretty, and engage in a bit of harmless flirtation on the dance floor. Bingley entered into the task with his usual optimistic enthusiasm, ready to be pleased by what he saw.

Even his friend Darcy could not put a dampener on his mood. That man could look unhappy at his own birthday party! Bingley tried to cajole him into enjoying himself, but after all, Darcy was old enough to take responsibility for his own mood. Instead, Bingley returned to the person who had caught his eye the moment he entered the hall.

Miss Bennet was an angel. She was the most beautiful woman in the room by far, but beyond that, she was sweet, kind, amiable, genteel, considerate – in fact, delightful in every way.

Was it possible to fall in love at first sight? Charles Bingley had fallen into amiable affection many times, but _love_? He found himself a sudden and fervent convert to the idea.


	5. Chapter 5

A long time later – after the assembly was forgotten, after the Netherfield Park party had left the neighbourhood, after his absurd proposal and her outraged rejection, after accusations and explanations, after one sister's disgrace and another's reunion with her love – after so much had changed between them, they were once again gazing at each other across a crowded room.

He could not look away. Those beautiful eyes were not laughing now. They looked sad. Was _he_ the cause of her sorrow? He wanted to be the cause of her joy, but if his presence caused her pain, he would leave.

She could not let her eyes betray her thoughts. Her feelings were so different from what they had been last April. If only he had still loved her, she would have received with gratitude and pleasure his declaration. But it was all too late. She herself had thrown her chance away, then Lydia had sealed her fate. Even could he forgive Elizabeth's trespasses, he could not connect himself to the sister-in-law of Lydia's husband.

But at least Bingley had returned for Jane. She would think on her sister's happiness to avoid wishing for what could not be. She would wish Darcy a happy future. For herself, there would be no other: she was reconciled to remaining a maiden aunt to her sisters' children. She did not like the word 'spinster' but it would soon be hers.

With mutual sorrow, they parted, their hearts unspoken.


	6. Chapter 6

Such an aunt could not be invented: only harsh reality would gift anyone with an aunt like Lady Catherine. She stormed into his study, ignored his civilities, and berated him about the woman he loved.

Darcy had mourned, had wept, had even tried drinking to forget. But he had not forgotten: he loved a woman who did not love him. Time was no ally. The pain was fresh every day. His life was one of endless regret.

And now here was Lady Catherine. It seemed she had gone to Hertfordshire, had confronted his Elizabeth, had demanded she renounce any claim on his heart! Darcy quailed. He knew Elizabeth Bennet made no such claim, but to hear it declared by his Aunt Catherine was too cruel. He braced himself to endure the inevitable.

"She refused to promise not to marry you."

It took a moment. He had to check he had heard correctly: the double negative could have misled him. But it took _only_ a moment.

Despite herself, Aunt Catherine had taught him to hope, as he had scarcely allowed himself to hope before. He was for Hertfordshire as soon as he could get the old woman out his front door!


	7. Chapter 7

A walk. A lane. A nervous glance. A blush.

He could wait no longer - drew in a breath to propose - but she spoke first. Gratitude, thanks, appreciation for his mortification. By God, he hoped that was not all she felt for him.

Weeks of dealing with the cad had been less mortifying than this moment of uncertainty now. Did she not see? It had all been for her.

He remembered his aunt's words. He stopped. He turned. He looked once more into those eyes.

In the assembly at Meryton, in the parlour at Netherfield, in the parsonage at Hunsford, in the music room at Pemberley, in the sitting room at Longbourn – always he was transfixed by those eyes.

Time held its breath.

He asked.

She breathed out a long sigh, then drew in a breath that was almost a sob. She looked away, looked at her feet, looked at the trees, looked at the sky.

Looked back at him.

She said she loved him: said yes!

Then raised an eyebrow in just that way he remembered: his heart had been lost, but now it beat strong in his breast.

Lady Catherine had been of infinite use, which ought to please her, for she loves to be of use.


End file.
